


Turns Out Monster Isn't A Relative Term, These Things Are Objectively Horrifying

by roboticdragons



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Body Horror, Multi, im british i dont know if the highways mentioned are accurate im sorry, lord help me im back on my bs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticdragons/pseuds/roboticdragons
Summary: Here’s a fun little maths question: you’ve got Point A and Point B.Point B is about 160 miles along Interstate 86 from Point A, and you’ve got about enough gas left to last you 190 miles.There are 12 people, not including yourself, that you need to get from Point A to Point B under the dead of night without anyone seeing them, and your car+trailer combo comfortably houses 8, uncomfortably houses 14.Oh and also there’s a honking big octopus ride you ALSO need to get from Point A to Point B and It’s Got A Human Face and won’t shut the hell up.Rounded to two decimal places, how many hours will it take attempting this task before you’re driven completely insane? (Worth 5 marks, show your working)I’d personally estimate it at around 3, maybe 4 hours?Henry’s been at it for about 6 hours now.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 97





	1. Henry Stein's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> my sincere apologies! i have returned to this bullshit for nanowrimo!  
DCTL isn't canon for this because holy hell i cannot deal with that! neither is most of chapter 5! i'm the writer and i cherrypick the hell outta canon!

Henry's car (Ford Crestliner, 1950) had certainly seen better days. Sure it worked fine for his day to day use, it was about 11 years old but it did what was reasonably asked of it well! The trailer Henry added after he left Linda and needed to get away from the house for a while didn't strain it too much, and while it sputtered and stubbornly refused to start every once in a while, it was a perfectly useful and capable car.

Ford Crestliners are not designed to pull octopus rides. Maybe in its heyday it could manage almost comfortably, or maybe without the trailer attached. But now? Now, with 5 people in the car, 3 more people (plus 2 ''cartoons' and a Searcher) in the trailer, pulling **A Fucking** **Octopus Ride** (plus one ''cartoon'' clinging on to said Horrifying Death Ride) down I86? The poor thing was barely struggling along at around 40mph, stopping every 10 miles or so to take a little breather.

The time was 03:30 am EST, Thursday 1st November 1962.

At 10:23 pm EST, Wednesday 31st October 1962, one Henry Stein plus two angels, two Borises (two Boris? two Bori?), one demon, one prophet, one...whatever the hell the Projectionist is, three Butcher Gang members and a Searcher walked out of Joey Drew Studios™. Sounds like the beginning of the world's shittiest and most convoluted joke. At 11:23 pm EST the same crowd remerged, now all hoisting a cranky, grumbling Octopus Ride With A Human Face out of the darkness.

One of the angels, a certain Miss Allison Pendle – freshly caught up on her identity through the records found in Joey’s office – had gawped and ran up to the car, saying she hadn’t seen anything like this in…well, in a time longer than she remembers.

That was the most positive reaction to the car.

It had been a good 20 years or so since the Gang had seen the outside world, and since then technology had marched proudly and obliviously onwards, not caring to glance at the ones it left behind. The outskirts of New York City had changed. Still the same at heart but all the same, it was so **new** and **different**.

Lacie, for all her experience around the height of mechanical engineering (or rather, the former height of mechanical engineering) wouldn’t even get in the thing. Something about them making things too flimsy these days, that she’d feel more safe taking refuge on Mr Carnival Of Horrors Piedmont during the drive.

Norman, while not as paranoid, elected to go in the trailer much to Henry’s chagrin; he’d wanted at least one sensible person in the car. It speaks to the average sanity rating of the residents that the guy missing his Literal Mind is one of the more stable ones.

Boris (both of them) were riding with Henry, with Wally riding shotgun and Thomas in the back. They were joined by Allison and, to everyone’s surprise, Susie. Thomas had promised not to gut her and Wally was blissfully unaware of her presence 2 feet behind him.

That left Jack, Shawn, Grant, Sammy, Norman and…’Joey’…cooped up in the trailer, with Sammy being restrained by Norman to stop him attempting to murder their former boss.

All of this was topped off with the Giant Fucking Octopus Ride hooked to the back of the trailer, complete with one Fisher clinging to the carts and attempting to make small talk over the howling night wind.

Imagine this set up, metaphorically balanced over the thick bubbling lava of chaos, trying to work for 5 minutes.

Now imagine it for 3 hours and 50 minutes and thank whatever Gods may exist that you weren’t born as Henry Stein.

First to get out was Wally, scampering out of the cramped car and into the fresh air. The wolf paused, took one deep breath and another, then raced towards the house’s door, slamming directly into them. Cartoon logic.

“It’s…not going to be comfortable. And it’s going to be tough at first. But there’s a few bedrooms, and it’s pretty large, and…”

Henry trailed off.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Henry.” Allison got out the car and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve…you’ve done so much for us already, even those of us that…don’t really deserve it.” She threw a glance towards the trailer, and towards Joey. “You’ve given us hope. That’s all we could ask for.”

The remainder of the group filed out of the vehicles and, slowly, hesitantly, made their way inside. That left Henry still standing outside.

And Lacie.

And Bertrum.

“I don’t suppose,” The octopus ride cleared its apparently still existent throat. “You have any sort of plan for my housing arrangements?”


	2. Garbage Disposals Are Weird And Unnecessary, Why Do American Houses Have Them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> british houses dont have sink blender monsters, what the fuck america
> 
> this chapter isnt good but neither is chapter 5 so :/
> 
> enjoy

In the end, it was that second morning back at home that made Henry realize this would take some…getting used to.

Sammy’s arm was halfway down the garbage disposal.

Now, it’s important to note that this wasn’t a completely random incident – Sammy had been quick to let him know that there was a logical sequence of events that’d led to this, see, Norman’s wiring had just gotten kinda near the sink and, y’know how things are, ended up in the disposal. And no it hadn’t hurt Norman because those were wires, not like there’s any nerves there, but it was super inconvenient so Sammy the wonderful and rational and definitely not still legally insane friend decided to help out! And then, of course, _someone_ **_accidentally_** leaned against the garbage disposal switch again and no, it also didn’t hurt, he didn’t have a functioning nervous system but ink is pretty thick so he couldn’t get it o u t and him and Norman were uncomfortably close so could Henry maybe help out a bit?

Wacky shenanigans weren’t Henry’s forte. It’s the reason why he’d never really stuck around for any of the office parties back at the studio.

(Well, that and the crippling social anxiety.)

He’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, this whole thing would…well, at least stay a little bit grounded in reality. Yeah, they’re cartoons, he got that. But come on people, we can do a little better. Just because the ink they’d been constructed from was literally built to perform hilarious cartoon slapstick didn’t mean they had to go through this bullshit! They’re all adults!

That’s what he wanted to say, and might’ve gone through with saying had the following not been true:

  1. It was 7 ‘o'clock in the morning on a Saturday (his self-care day!).
  2. Aforementioned crippling social anxiety plus a major lack of confrontational skills.
  3. He hadn’t had coffee and wasn’t super capable of forming full sentences right now.
  4. His friendship with Joey and Sammy had a pretty strong track record of Henry offering good advice, them acknowledging that advice and how great a friend he is, then promptly completely ignoring it. Why would it work now that they’ve become significantly more insane?
  5. There was a giant octopus ride in the garden and that took top ‘Deal With This Shit’ priority right now.

So he did what he’d wanted to do so many times back in the day.

He just left!

Just walked right out the door and left that group of weirdos to their own problems. Good on him.

“Henry?”  
“…Bye.”  
“Alrighty.” Lacie brushed past him. “Just wanted to check whether you mind me usin’ an ungodly amount of your coffee beans, Bertrum wants to try drinking coffee again and not gonna lie, I’m just curious bout how that’ll work, but oookay.”

She got one of those collapsible stools out of Henry’s cupboards, propped it up near the sink, nudged Sammy closer to Norman and filled up the kettle.  
“…A little help, perhaps?” The prophet inquired, hesitantly. His strongest memory of the Butcher Gang from back in the studio was one of him lodging an axe about a foot deep in a Fisher’s face so, yeah, a little tense.  
“No.”  
She put the kettle on, collapsed the collapsible stool, popped it back in the cupboard and waited.

“…Can you at least make me some coffee perhaps? I can’t exactly- “ He tugged his arm a few times to illustrate just how much he couldn’t exactly.   
“Get Norman to do it. He’s the only one here that likes you, y’ know.”  
“I don’t think he has the mental capacity to make a cup of coffee right now, he doesn’t…” Sammy gestured to Norman’s head. “You see, he doesn’t…yeah. Not there. I think he may be able to experience limited emotions, basic things like pain, sadness, happiness and the like, but…yeah.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, Norman sure was able to experience happiness. He was having an absolute ball at the moment.

Here he was, definitely _not_ in that weird dark place that’d looped and looped and just kept going and had gotten kinda boring, this place was super bright and probably not an infinite maze he was doomed to wander for the rest of his half-existence!  
And on top of that, he was standing right next to the only person who’d paid him any mind since he’d gotten out. That was nice. And there were a lot of people around and sure he only understood about a quarter of what they were saying but still, nice, fun, a bit better than being completely and utterly alone!

“He’s probably distraught right now, you know. We’re both stuck here, and no one is helping us, and you aren’t even being considerate enough to make us a simple cup of coffee and quite frankly-!” Sammy’s voice hitched a little bit, “Frankly this is grossly disrespectful to your fellow housemates, I expected better from former sheep- “

…‘‘‘Joey’’’…reached into the sink and wrenched out a mess of wiring and ink.

Lacie made a quick decision and followed in Henry’s footsteps.

She’d managed to make it about 4 feet before the sound of pure, utter, kinda-justified Sammy Rage erupted.


End file.
